Each day is an adventure!

Posts Tagged ‘joy’

I’m not sure if this is unique to my family, but the males in my home love to make me scream.

It’s often during a pause in a movie—while the house is dark and ominous. Kevin will find a door to hide behind or a corner to emerge from unexpectedly. I’ll scream or make guttural noises in my throat and flap my arms—and for a moment Kevin will look worried—but then I’ll see a hint of a smile that spreads all the way to his eyes, and soon we’re laughing until I’m wiping away tears.

There’s something exhilarating about a good scare and a neighbourhood-rousing scream. It’s better than coffee for revving up the senses.

Often, after I’ve been thoroughly terrified, I’ll hear the children giggling in their rooms. Somehow my screams boost the morale of the whole family. I’m just as confused at that as you are. But now the boys are getting in on scaring me too.

A few nights ago, I was walking with my friend Miriam on the driveway. It was getting dark. We were deep in conversation as we walked past my husband’s work truck. Suddenly, a dark figure leapt off the bumper, landed in front of us, and yelled.

I screamed…and I screamed. My legs went numb. And there was my son Owen, bouncing from one foot to the other in complete delight. The three of us laughed long and loud, and before long the feeling returned to my legs.

We went back to walking, and Owen went off to bed. Almost an hour later we were even deeper in conversation, it was darker, and an even larger figure jumped off the same bumper and scared us again. It was Kevin this time, and he didn’t even know that Owen had beat him to the scream.

My family knows not to tickle me—I’m much more likely to punch than laugh when tickled…But being scared? Yeah, I’m okay with that. 🙂

There are few things more miserable than going to help a friend and then making things worse. And if there’s anyone who’s going to make that mistake, it’s going to be me. {Sigh.}

My misfortune happened at a work bee. I love work bees. The social gathering that’s more than just a gathering; we get to accomplish something together. I was there to help my friend move out of her trailer and get the trailer ready for her in-laws. We were cleaning and organizing and visiting and drinking tea. Is there a better way to spend a day?

“I’ve got a job for you, Rachel,” said Barb. “You can transfer my kids’ measurements from the wall to this height board. You like a challenge.” It’s true—I love a challenge, but my penmanship is sloppy and I was a little worried that I wouldn’t be neat enough.

I used a ruler to keep my lines straight, and carefully transferred each mark. It didn’t take long to finish, and it didn’t look too bad.

Barb’s mom cocked her head to the side and examined the board. “I didn’t know the kids were that tall.”

A tingle climbed the back of my neck. Something was definitely wrong. The heights were all a foot out!

The ladies assured me that the foot-markings could be changed, but they were big and written in permanent ink. No matter what, it was going to be a mess. I didn’t want them to groan every time they looked at the board for the next several decades and think of me.

I wracked my brain for a solution, but it was Barb’s mom that came up with the idea of flipping the board and redoing it on the back. I was just grateful for a solution.

I snuck the board home and spent that evening redrawing the lines and numbers and then measuring and copying the heights from the other side. I prayed for Barb while I traced the numbers and marked off each line. I prayed for her pregnancy and the house they are building, and then I prayed for each child as I copied their names onto the wood.

God knows that I needed that lovely, relaxing evening of prayer and meditation. I needed to slow down and be thankful for good friends and to remember that sometimes even mistakes pave the way to peace and prayer.

I had a request for a third chapter in this bizarre little series, and it just so happens that we had another crisis.

I was just drifting into sleep on Friday night when my phone rang. It was the camp where my daughters were at. This was not a good sign at 12:30 at night. I was informed that Melanie was having a asthma attack and was being taken into the hospital.

The weird thing about this was that Melanie doesn’t have asthma. I threw on my clothes and rushed to the hospital.

My stomach tightened when I saw a van—with the sliding door still opened—sitting in front of the hospital entrance. They must have been frightened for her to leave the door wide opened. Stay calm, I told myself.

The hospital had been recently renovated and it felt like I was dreaming as I rushed down unfamiliar corridors looking for my daughter.

I was led into emergency where I found Melanie grabbing her chest and gasping for air. Her wide eyes were filled with panic.

A mask was placed over Melanie’s face, and as she sucked in the steam and medication I felt her body begin to relax.

“I missed you too, Sweety.” I held her close to me, and felt the tears spill onto my own cheeks.

Melanie was soon released from the hospital and decided that she wanted to come home instead of going back to camp that night. The asthma attack remains a bit of a mystery but seems to have been triggered from extreme excitement and exertion as well as smoke in the air from forest fires. The panic made things worse.

I’m so thankful for the camp director who drove Melanie to the hospital and to the camp nurse (my dear friend Miriam) who stayed with Melanie and offered her comfort and love. Most of all, I’m thankful that Melanie is fine now.

The truth is, things can always get worse. My lesson in all of these trials is to count my blessings—to realize that in spite of the difficulties, embarrassments, disappointments, and fears . . . my cup overflows.

These used to be the words that I berated myself with every time I was in public. Is it any wonder that I suffered from chronic headaches and anxiety attacks? It took me a long time to realize that these self-deprecating thoughts were actually a symptom of selfishness. My focus was on me.

Though the key to overcoming my depression and anxiety was simple—it wasn’t easy. I needed to stop focusing on myself and live for others.

The ugly thoughts still came: You’re so fat! You’re just an accident waiting to happen! But instead of giving into those condemning words, I fought back with truth: You are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are a temple of the Holy Spirit. And then I would seek out someone to bless.

I sat down with a photo album this morning to look for a picture for this week’s “glimpse.” It is the very first album I made and shows my marriage and pregnancy and my new little baby. Looking at the pictures vividly brought back the emotions of that time—my wonder, joy, fear.

What an intense time of discovery! It made me remember how hard those first years can be. I wanted to be a good mom more than anything, so I read every book on parenting that I could get my hands on. The “experts” disagreed on almost all points, and the more I read the more I doubted my ability to be the mother I longed to be.

Many people say that things get a lot easier with the third baby, but my third baby came with a twin brother! So my first six years as a mom were difficult, but as I look through the pictures I realize how sweet they were too.

Here is a picture taken during the first year of being a new mom. Has it really been thirteen years?

As a mom with a large family, I’ve realized that I don’t get to be grumpy. At times it seems a little unfair; bad days just aren’t an option. When I’m irritable and snap at my kids, then they get irritable and snap at each other, and in no time at all, things are uglier than a hen missing half her feathers!

Just because bad days aren’t an option, doesn’t mean that they don’t happen from time to time. Yesterday was one of those days…

I had kept the kids inside the day before, because it didn’t really get above -20C. The kids had far too much energy from being cooped up inside, and I had far too little for the same reason. I snapped at the kids a couple times, so they went from happy-hyper kids to grumpy-hyper kids. You get the picture.

Then I had some technology frustrations. Oh yes, I felt like throwing all the computers and other technology out into the snow.

At the end of a rather frustrating day, I shut off the lights and and went upstairs in the dark. There is a large window at the top of the stairs and I caught a glimpse of a green glow breathing across the sky. I stood transfixed as the Northern Lights danced before me.

I was the audience as the Composer wove the luminescent threads into a visual symphony. Awe filled me, and I felt like I could almost hear the melody that the lights danced to.

My tension melted away in the presence of such beauty. There was a message for me in all of this. The Composer is also weaving the thread of my life—and yours—into his master symphony. There is a purpose and a plan in all that he does in our lives. The frustrations are there as harmonies to bring out the beauty of the joys, and to teach us to be thankful for our countless blessings.

Lord, teach me to be thankful for the waterfall of blessings that you pour over me. Help me to see your hand in my life, on the rough days, as well as the smooth ones. Shine through me, my God and my King.

I recently made up a little video for the grandparents who don’t get to see the children very often, and thought that I would share it here too. So here it is, my two youngest just having fun and enjoying each other. It’s just so precious how they light up when they’re together!

P.S. – if the video is low quality you can adjust it by clicking on the sprocket thingy. 🙂